


that's the biggest goddamn peanut I've seen in my life

by notallbees



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Ass to Mouth, Bottom Howard Stark, Captain America: The First Avenger, Dirty Talk, Gratuitous Smut, Howard Stark's Toilet Mouth, Implied Relationships, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Rimming, Size Kink, Steve Rogers' giant dong, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 06:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2014947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Got somewhere to be?"<br/>Steve shrugged and smiled self-consciously. "Actually I'm in Fate's hands tonight."<br/>Stark looked sympathetic. "Shame. I always prefer Fate's lap." He reached up and clapped Steve on the shoulder, leaning in as he did so. "Or between his thighs." Steve's eyes widened and, to his horror, he felt his cheeks heat up. Stark, to his credit, didn't let it show if he'd noticed. "Let me help out?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	that's the biggest goddamn peanut I've seen in my life

**Author's Note:**

> So when I started getting back into fandom, Steve Rogers' giant dong became a running joke aka the answer to all questions (What shall we eat for lunch? What's this in my soup? What should I get X for Christmas? - You get the idea).
> 
> So this is a story all about how Steve Rogers got a giant dong, told via the medium of Howard Stark's toilet mouth. Also I totally didn't mean for there to be any Steve/Bucky in this story, but apparently Steve had other ideas.

It was seven hours since Steve Rogers' life had changed forever.

Everyone he knew or cared about was on their way to fight, while he was stranded in New York with nowhere to go, and not even a scrap to wear. Erskine was gone, Colonel Phillips was done with him for good, and the USO tour was still a fortnight away. He hadn't bothered going back to base to collect his meagre possessions; not counting his uniform and civvies, none of which had a hope of fitting him now, there was nothing there for him besides a sketchbook, a photo of him and Bucky, and the awkward stares of his bunk mates. 

A young corporal met him with his final pay and, in what Steve suspected to be an act of guilty charity on the Colonel's part, a pair of boots to fit his new size thirteens. Under the baleful gaze of the remaining scientists, Steve excused himself to the 'antique store' above, ready to try his luck at finding a room for the night. He took two steps, and collided with a harassed-looking Howard Stark. 

"Watch it, kid," Stark snapped, interrupting the flow of instructions he was yelling into the phone, but the look he gave Steve was more amusement than annoyance. He pointed at himself, then at Steve, and made some gesture which seemed to be asking Steve to stay, but he'd already gone back to his conversation and Steve couldn't quite get his meaning. Still, he had nothing to lose by staying put. He had a strange sense that he ought to thank Stark for his part in the experiment, but he wasn't entirely sure yet that he wanted to. 

"Okay," Stark was saying in clipped, impatient tones. "Get on that right away, we can't afford to waste any time. Thanks toots, you're a star. Couldn't do this without you." He slammed the receiver down and turned to Steve. "Off to join the circus then, Rogers?"

Steve bristled. "I'm going to help the war effort any way they'll let me, Mister Stark." He squared his shoulders, appreciating for the first time that he suddenly had the right physique for intimidation. He couldn't help revelling in the feeling a little. "What about you? I thought you were shipping out?"

"I have some business matters to arrange before I'm out of the country for an indeterminate number of weeks." Stark smiled at him; a wry, disarming smile that made Steve's stomach turn over. He folded his arms, then unfolded them again and dropped them awkwardly to his sides. His whole body felt strange and out of alignment; a hundred little discomforts and weaknesses were gone, but he hadn't yet figured out how to accommodate his altered body, and for the first time outside of a dance hall, he felt clumsy and ungainly. "Everything okay, Private Rogers?" Stark was still smiling, but there was concern in his eyes and in his voice. 

"Strictly speaking, I'm just Steve again." An edge of bitterness clung to his words, and he hoped that Stark didn't notice. Steve didn't kid himself: he'd given it his all in training, but he knew that he hadn't impressed anyone besides Erskine. 

"That was a hell of a performance with the Hydra agent," Stark said, gathering his bags and heading outside, gesturing with a nod of his head for Steve to follow, "but if it was up to me, we'd have you in testing for a while to make sure everything went smoothly with the procedure."

"I'm fine."

Stark laughed, a generous, open sound. "You sure are." He set his bags on the sidewalk, but they'd barely touched the ground before a coloured man hurried over to gather them up and stow them in a car pulled up to the curb. "Can we give you a ride somewhere?"

"Oh, no, I—"

"Got somewhere to be?"

Steve shrugged and smiled self-consciously. "Actually I'm in Fate's hands tonight."  
Stark looked sympathetic. "Shame. I always prefer Fate's lap." He reached up and clapped Steve on the shoulder, leaning in as he did so. "Or between his thighs." Steve's eyes widened and, to his horror, he felt his cheeks heat up. Stark, to his credit, didn't let it show if he'd noticed. "Let me help out?" he added, gesturing towards the car, where the driver was standing by the open door. Steve had enough experience to know a pick up line when he heard one. He and Stark had been dancing around something for weeks, but he had never expected much to come of it, assuming that maybe Stark just loved to flirt so much that he didn't bother confining it to the dames. What convinced him was the look in Stark's eyes: honest, broken open, and not at all confident that Steve was going to say yes. 

 

Steve had to admit, whatever else might happen, spending the night in Stark's New York bachelor pad had to beat the floor of someone's crummy apartment, or a lice-infested mattress in a boarding house. He'd let his lease slip when he got accepted for basic training; no point throwing away his meagre pay on a place he could only use two days out of the month, and Bucky wouldn't be home anytime soon to use it. 

Stark led him into a glittering building, and they were ushered into an elevator by a young man in a smart uniform. The elevator played music gently around them, and Steve tried not to notice when Stark leaned into him, swaying gently to the sound as if they were rocking together on a dance floor. He cast an anxious glance at the lift operator, but the kid had his eyes forward, giving no sign that he even knew they were there. 

"Thanks, Brett," Stark said as they reached their floor and the kid slid the doors open for them. He tossed the kid a coin with a wolfish grin. "Give my best to your mother."

"You bet, Mister Stark!"

"That was a dollar," Steve said, as Stark led him to the front door, and wondered how he'd noticed the size and shape of the coin so easily from six feet away. 

Stark shrugged. "I don't like money," he said, letting Steve into the apartment. He took in Steve's astonished stare and chuckled. "Don't get me wrong, I love having _things_ , but money is just a pain in the ass."

He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on a rack by the door. "Drink?" He muttered, edging around Steve's bulk in the hallway and deliberately, unmistakably, pressing his hand against Steve's ass as he passed. Steve made a little sound of surprise and scooted out of the way. He wasn't used to taking up so much room, but Howard just flashed a grin over his shoulder and disappeared into another room. 

Steve followed slowly, taking his time to look around and absorb his surroundings. The apartment he shared with Bucky could've fit in there four times over, and there were more books than he'd ever seen outside the public library, lining the shelves and covering every surface in heaps and stacks. He picked one up and flicked through, but it was pages and pages of numbers and equations and diagrams that made no sense. 

"Here," Stark said, bringing him a tumbler of whiskey that was almost full. 

"Jesus, there's half the bottle in here."

Stark grinned. "Somehow, I don't think a regular serving of Dutch courage is gonna get you very far."

Steve shrugged and saluted Stark's glass with his own before taking a big mouthful. It was sweet and rough, obviously another thing Stark threw his money at, and Steve felt weird just gulping it down. He took two swallows before he set his glass aside on the glass coffee table and ran his hand awkwardly through his hair. "So."

"What, you come here for the conversation?" Stark asked, a smirk on his face. He was trying to get a rise, just like he always did, and Steve wasn't gonna let him get away with it this time.

"Hell no," he said, grinning as he reached for Stark's tie and hauled him in to kiss him. 

Stark groaned and shifted in closer to Steve. "That's better," he mumbled against Steve's mouth. If there was one thing to be grateful about regarding Howard Stark's big mouth, it was that he was a really good kisser. Steve could put up with a few wiseass comments to be kissed like that a little more often. Stark pulled back for a second to set down his own glass and loosen his tie and the top button on his shirt. 

"So this is what you like?" Stark looked at him hard, and Steve blushed. "Big guys, I mean."

"I know you're not dumb, Rogers, and this ain't basic training, so you don't need to pretend."

"Meaning?"

"It's you I like, Steve, not your muscles," Stark said, running his fingers over Steve's shoulders and flattening his palms on Steve's chest, "though I admit it doesn't hurt."  
Steve leaned into Stark's touch. "But you didn't wanna do this before."

Stark burst out laughing, the sound of it surprisingly loud in the quiet apartment. "Are you kidding? Between training, testing and meal times, when exactly was I supposed to get you away from Phillips and Erskine?" He paused, then continued with a wry smile. "Not to mention Agent Carter."

Steve went bright red. "That obvious?" He expected more teasing but Stark looked at him with something close to pity. "You wear it all out there on your sleeve, kid. Trust me, that's how you get your heart broken."

"You're still calling me kid," Steve muttered, moving in closer, getting in Stark's space. 

"You don't like that?"

"I think I'm at least five inches taller than you now."

"I think I like that." Stark grinned. "I think—"

Before he could finish, Steve leaned down to kiss him, more gently this time, bringing his hand up to cup the back of Stark's head, fingers stroking through his carefully styled hair. Stark leapt up to meet the kiss with force, pulling Steve in close, fingers twisting into the fabric of his new shirt. Steve felt feverish, too many weeks without this kind of touch, but even then he was surprised by the rush he felt through his system. 

"Shit," he breathed, pulling away, pressing his forehead against Stark's. "This is—" he broke off, breathing hard. "I feel like a kid touching a girl's tits for the first time."

Grinning, Stark gave his hip an experimental squeeze. "Take it easy, kiddo. You're still getting used to this body. Your hormones are probably out of whack." They kissed again, all teeth and urgent fingers, Steve sighing into the embrace with the knowledge he might have to get by on this memory for a while. Stark pulled him in by his hips, and Steve's erection ground up against his belly. "Holy—" Stark caught himself, and glanced up at Steve with one eyebrow raised. "That better not be a gun in your pocket."

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't think of anything, and Stark laughed and launched himself back into kissing him with the kind of enthusiasm he only showed otherwise for his machines. Stark's arms came up around his neck and Steve took the liberty of getting his hands around Stark's ass – which felt incredible in his tailored pants – and hauled him up at the same time as he backed him into a bookcase, pinning him there like a specimen that Steve intended to examine all over.

"Jesus Christ," Stark muttered, as Steve bent his head to worry at Stark's collarbone with his teeth. "Look at you, you goddamn giant. I am a fucking genius." He moaned and turned his head to find Steve's mouth again. They made out for a few minutes – Two minutes? Ten? Steve lost track, until Howard writhed against him and begged to be put down so he could touch Steve properly. As soon as he did, Stark worked his hand between them and Steve swore as it disappeared into his underwear. Hot, keen fingers stroked and then wrapped around his dick, and Steve choked out a surprised gasp. "Oh god, that feels incredible."

"Rogers, you're gonna give me a heart attack." Stark unbuttoned Steve's pants, took a grip on his underwear and hauled them both down to his knees. Steve yelped in surprise, and tried instinctively to cover himself up, but Stark grabbed his hands and held them out of the way. Steve realised he could easily break the grip if he wanted to, but the reverent look in Stark's eyes made him hesitate. He swallowed hard, then looked down at himself. 

"Holy shit," Steve shouted, while Stark started laughing. "What the hell did you do to me? I'm a monster!" He staggered over to the couch and sat down heavily. The object in question bounced obscenely at the edge of his field of vision. Steve took a deep breath as the enormity—literally—of the change he'd gone through really began to sink in. "Wow."

"You okay, kid?" Stark crouched down in front of him, placing his hands on Steve's knees. "Steve?"

"Yeah." Steve chuckled. "I'm good. This is just a lot to take in."

"You can say that again," Stark said, with a pointed look at his groin. "I take it your, ah, manhood is a little more generous than it used to be." Steve nodded, and Stark slapped his palms against Steve's thighs. "Well you're goddamn welcome!"

"It used to be the size of a peanut!"

"Steve, that's the biggest goddamn peanut I've seen in my life."

Howard was staring down at Steve's dick with a thoughtful, reverent look in his eyes. It made Steve feel like a broken piece of machinery or a math problem that Howard wanted to solve, and being focused on so intently was overwhelming. "Steve, I pride myself on my adventurous spirit, but I'm not sure I can even get this in my mouth," Howard said with a frown. He bit his lip absently, which immediately filled Steve's head with images of that mouth all over him, and he groaned loudly. Mistaking it for disappointment, Howard laughed and flashed him a sinful glance. "I didn't say I wouldn't try."

And he did, moving in with a predatory gleam in his eye as he bent to take just the tip of Steve's dick into his mouth. He rolled his tongue over it, and the sensation seared through Steve like a sudden pain, but it wasn't, it was pleasure jolting his system and turning his fingers into clenched fists in Howard's perfectly pristine hair. Howard moaned through his mouthful and sucked hard. To Steve's horror, he felt a shudder go through his body and before he could utter a warning or even loosen his grip on Howard's hair, he crashed through a dizzying orgasm, shooting his load right in Howard Stark's mouth.

"Oh shit," Steve said in a shaky voice. "Shit, I'm so sorry. I didn't expect—"

Howard sat back on his heels. He had a spunk splattered across his cheek, spilling out of his mouth and down the front of his silk waistcoat. Steve was stunned when the sight sent a shockwave of arousal through him, and his dick pulsed weakly. Howard raised his eyebrows.

"Well that was new," he said, reaching to pull a handkerchief from his pocket. He dabbed at his cheek with it, while Steve's eyes caught on his lower lip, on the big glob of spunk quivering there, threatening to fall. Desire surged through him and, curling forward, he grabbed Howard's face between his hands and crushed their mouths together, tasting himself there and Howard underneath, rich whiskey and pliant flesh. He bit down on Howard's lower lip, scraping it through his teeth and moaning when Howard fucked his tongue into his mouth. Steve dug his fingers into Howard's hair again, twisted his other hand in Howard's shirt and urged him upwards onto his lap without breaking the kiss. Howard didn't need much urging, clambering up Steve's body and rocking into his lap with slow, determined movements. He moved from Steve's mouth to dig his teeth into Steve's throat and neck, scraping up on his stubble. 

"Can I return the favour?" Steve gasped out, realising with a start that his breathlessness was pure arousal: no tightness in his chest or throat, feelings he was so long used to. 

Howard chuckled against his shoulder and moved Steve's hands to his pants, where his own dick was straining at the fabric. "Be my guest. Though I gotta admit, you make me feel a little inadequate."

He said it with humour, but glanced away, not meeting Steve's eyes, and Steve shook his head. "I thought you told me it's not about looks?"

Howard laughed again. One of the things Steve liked about him was how quick he was to laugh, just like Bucky. Steve missed his friend more right then than he had in the weeks on base, surrounded by the scent of canvas and boot polish, knowing Bucky had been there before him. Even though Howard's skin felt nothing like Bucky's, even though Bucky smelled like sweat and grit and Howard like expensive cologne and engine oil, just having his hands on someone's body, having someone look at him with need in their eyes was enough to overwhelm him. 

Steve nuzzled up at Howard's chin, letting his eyes fall closed, mouth open and searching for hot breath. Howard obliged and they kissed lazily, revelling in the sensation; they had lost the urgency in their movements, but Steve got his hands around Howard's ass and urged him forwards, and they started up a gentle rhythm, Howard rocking forwards to grind his dick into Steve's stomach. 

"I'm almost disappointed to be leaving so soon," he muttered, his breath hot in Steve's ear. "New York suddenly got a lot more attractive."

"You think that now," Steve said, getting his arms around Howard. "Give me ten minutes and you won't want to leave at all." He didn't have much leverage but his new upper body strength more than made up for it, and he used it to wrangle Howard over onto his back on the couch. He unfastened Howard's pants and hauled them down, and they both laughed self-consciously when Howard had to wriggle himself free of them. His fingers went next to the fine buttons on the ruined waistcoat, but Howard shook his head.

"Just get rid of it," he hissed. Years of counting every penny held Steve back, even though he knew Howard could afford it, but after a moment's hesitation, he ripped it open. Buttons pinged off, one hitting his cheek, and in retaliation he gave Howard's shirt the same treatment. Howard smiled and stretched. "Better."

Steve liked the way Howard's body looked underneath his clothes, hard and compliant as he ran his hands down over his stomach, stopping just short of the waistband of his  
underwear. Howard swore.

"Steve, you're killing me here."

The tone made Steve smile; amused and demanding and just a little uncertain. It was obvious that Howard had a tendency to take the lead, but Steve thought he was enjoying giving it up right now. He curled his body over Howard and filled his mouth with Howard's dick, right to the base, forcing himself not to grin at the strangled cry of shock and delight Howard choked out in response.

"Holy hell, Rogers, who've you been practising on?"

Steve ignored him and moved his mouth up and down the length a few times, taking care not to rush. He could feel Howard trembling underneath him, a tremor in his hips as he resisted the urge to buck up into Steve's mouth. Steve covered them with his hands to hold him down, wrapping his palms around the jut of Howard's pelvis. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed doing this, but then, the last few times hadn't been so fun: rushed, desperate trysts, just letting off some steam. He intended to take his time with Howard.

He pulled off with a slurp and circled his tongue around the head of Howard's dick, then lower, then took it deep into his mouth again. It seemed to snap something in Howard's self-control and he started cursing and babbling: filthy, delicious strings of nonsense, requests and directions for the way he wanted Steve to touch him. As Steve sucked and licked and tried to follow Howard's instructions, he realised he was getting hard again, almost uncomfortably so, and when Howard uttered a loud, sobbing noise and shouted "Fuck, Steve you gotta fuck me, I don't care, I don't care how big it is, I need you to fuck me, put it in my ass right now", Steve had to grab his dick hard to stop himself shooting his load again. He moaned around Howard's dick and sucked at it greedily, but Howard grabbed at his hair and pulled on it to get his attention. "No no," he murmured, "not yet, not yet."

Steve backed off, and Howard flung his arm out, gesturing in the direction of the kitchen. "Grab the olive oil," he muttered, causing Steve to raise an eyebrow. He couldn't help wondering how often Stark raided his own kitchen for his casual fucks. "No smart remarks, Rogers," Howard said, catching the look. 

Alright, maybe he wasn't a soldier anymore but Steve knew how to take an order. He dutifully fetched the oil, sat Howard up on the sofa then pulled him forward by his hips so that his ass hung halfway over the edge. 

"Son of a bitch-" Howard swore as Steve manhandled him. "Just think what I could've done with a whole army of you."

Steve glared at him, and Howard started laughing, but he stuttered out awfully fast when Steve rubbed two slick fingertips over his asshole. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he blurted, his face taking on a beautiful, stunned expression and his words disintegrating. "Don't be a tease, you dirty fucking bastard."

Chalking that one up as a win, Steve leaned forwards and pulled Howard's dick into his mouth with his tongue at the same time as he slid his middle finger in, up to the second knuckle. Howard groaned, and Steve felt his thighs go tense around his shoulders. It felt good, that pressure around him, and he sucked on Howard's dick appreciatively as he smoothed his finger in and out, in and out slowly. 

"More," Howard gasped, shoving his hands into Steve's hair and putting pressure on his temples. "Please, I can take more."

Steve groaned and Howard's dick popped out of his mouth as he shifted to get a better angle, before questing inside with his first and middle fingers pressed together. Howard's fingers tightened in his hair, tugging on it hard, and Steve scissored his fingers inside Howard's ass, listening to him whimper.

"That okay?" Steve asked, as he dropped to swallow up Howard's dick again. 

Howard made a noise of assent, before flinging one arm over his face and moaning into the crook of his elbow. Steve stroked his fingers in and out in time with his mouth, and pretty soon Howard was panting and shuddering against him. He took a moment to spill some more oil on his fingers before he added another, anxious to ensure that Howard would be ready for him. 

"God damn you, Rogers," Howard was muttering under his breath, "god damn you, you son of a bitch," which Steve felt was a bit unfair and that it was a good job he wasn't really religious anymore, because that could hurt a more devout guy. In punishment, he thrust his fingers in harder, twisting his hand with each jolt, and sliding down until Howard's dick bumped the back of his mouth and he had to swallow hard against his gag reflex.

Howard pulled at his hair again, uttering a strangled "I'm coming, oh shit, I'm coming, you son of a bitch", before doing just that, spilling right down Steve's throat. Steve swallowed and held the hot, straining flesh in his mouth a few moments longer, until Howard nudged him off with a half-hearted groan. He stopped moving his hand, but didn't take his fingers from Howard's ass, and Howard didn't seem about to complain.

"Jesus Christ," Howard muttered, pushing himself up on his elbows. "You don't do anything by halves, do you?"

Steve crooked his fingers without meaning to, and Howard shuddered and bit his lip on a groan. Steve blushed, and dropped his gaze to Howard's stomach. "Uh."

Howard's eyes snapped open. "Uh, about what I said," he muttered, suddenly sheepish himself. "Shit, uh—"

"I really wanna fuck you," Steve interrupted, looking up through his hair. "If that wasn't just your dick talking, then—" he swallowed, gathering his nerves, "then yeah, I really wanna fuck you."

Howard moaned and wrapped his arm around Steve's neck, dragging him down to kiss him. "Do it," he hissed, lifting his leg to wrap around Steve's back and pull him closer. "Fuck, please do it."

Steve laughed and extricated himself carefully from Howard's grip. "I think we should still take this slow," he said, settling himself on the sofa beside Howard and gesturing for him to climb on board. "I – I don't wanna hurt you," he said, blushing harder. He laughed. "Not really something I've had to worry about before."

"An officer and a gentleman," Howard muttered, climbing back into Steve's lap where he seemed to fit just right, like Steve was his own private rocking chair. 

"You must be thinking of someone else," Steve said, grinning, and trying to act like he didn't have someone very specific in his own mind. No, scratch that, Bucky was anything but a gentleman. 

To his relief, Stark chose to leave that one alone anyway, too busy investigating the muscles in Steve's neck with his teeth. He put a hand on Howard's shoulder to pull him in, pressing their bodies together, and let Howard make himself comfortable. Howard hummed contentedly, leaning up to kiss Steve before reaching over to the table for the bottle of oil. Steve felt, weirdly, kind of nervous, now that the first orgasm had taken the edge off the arousal that was hotwiring his brain (a very slender edge, but it was something). Still, the weight and heat of Howard Stark climbing on top of him was swiftly disabling all major intellectual functions. Steve reached down behind Stark and slid one still-wet finger into his ass, grinning when Howard frowned at him and slipped one of his own fingers in there next to Steve's. 

"We must stop meeting like this," Howard said, and Steve kissed him again just to shut him up and ensure he would never say anything like that ever again. He felt hot and heavy all over and he wanted, so badly, to just haul Howard down on his dick and pound the living daylights out of him, but he held himself back. 

"On your mark, Mister Stark," he said patiently.

Howard laughed breathlessly. "You should watch that smart mouth of yours, kid," he said, grabbing Steve's dick in his hand and manoeuvring it into the right position. "You'll get yourself in trouble."

"Maybe I like trouble," Steve groaned, as the head of his dick strained against Howard's ass and, with a sudden release of pressure, popped inside. He was stunned into silence by the sensation, the almost breathtaking force of Howard's body struggling to accept him and only just managing. Howard let out a long, breathless moan and pushed his face into Steve's shoulder. His hands made fists in Steve's shirt. 

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," he moaned, just hanging there for a minute, Steve's dick barely tickling him and his chest heaving. 

Steve wrapped his arms around Howard's chest, supporting him so that his legs didn't have to do all the work. However much Howard Stark worked out, Steve figured he probably had him beat for physical condition. For a couple of minutes neither of them moved, just lay pressed together breathing in the same rhythm (Steve matched his inhales and exhales to Howard, because he was just fine either way). Just as Steve was beginning to worry, Howard shifted his knees on either side of Steve's thighs and slid down, edged back up a little, slid down again a little further, the vice of his ass like a fist squeezed tight.

Steve nearly lost his fucking mind. It felt like nothing he'd ever experienced, and he could swear there were colours popping behind his eyes like fireworks. "Howard," he muttered, nudging the limp and wiry shape in his lap and gasping when Howard tightened his muscles. "I think I'm hallucinating."

Howard snuffled and fucked himself up and down again slowly on Steve's dick. "Feel good though?"

"It feels like I'm dying," Steve whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut.

"'n a good way?"

"Uh huh."

Howard shrugged. "You're prob'ly fine."

Steve groaned and shifted his hips slightly, just to get comfortable, and Howard made a noise like a wounded animal against his neck. His fingers dug into Steve like steel claws, and Steve was worried he'd broken something when Howard jerked and started to move himself more rhythmically, levering himself with his hands on Steve's chest, his dark hair falling in his eyes. They both forgot how to use words, devolving into grunts and moans and more dying-animal-sounds from Howard, and Steve for that matter. 

Steve had a little more warning with his orgasm this time, but it still came before he expected it, surging up from his toes, and he bit down on his own forearm hard enough to draw blood to stop himself from taking it out on Stark and injuring him by accident with his newfound strength. His hips stuttered with the force of him willing them still, and Stark moaned loudly and bit Steve's open mouth. "Fuck me," he whispered, swallowing the sounds of Steve's aftershocks, "please Steve I know I can take it push me over and fuck me please"

Well, Steve had nothing to say to that, other than carrying on following orders like a good little soldier. He hauled Howard up and sideways so that he was leaning over the arm of the couch face first, and Steve crawled in behind him, trying to find space for himself where before it would've come easy. Steve grabbed Howard's hip with one hand and rucked up his ruined shirt and waistcoat with the other so he could press hot, open mouthed kisses down the length of Howard's spine, moving backwards. 

"Steve, what – what are you-"

Howard (finally) stopped talking when Steve's tongue went up his ass, which may have been the weirdest, grossest, most brilliant thing Steve had ever done, especially given the sounds it startled out of Howard in lieu of words, which he'd apparently lost the ability to make. Steve really fervently hoped that Howard didn't have neighbours, because the sounds he was making could bring down half the NYPD on them, and Steve didn't want to get arrested for attempted murder, or for sticking his tongue in the US Army's golden boy.

He worked his hand around Howard's waist, wrestling in between the pillow and the warm body underneath him so that he could get his hand on Howard's dick. Howard practically screamed, and started jerking his hips unevenly back and forth between Steve's hand and his mouth. Steve decided to make it easier for him. He sat up, wiping his mouth on his t-shirt, and crawled forward until he was covering Howard's back and he could press a kiss to the nape of his neck.

"What now?" Howard murmured, sounding drunk with pleasure. 

Steve grinned. "Now I'm gonna fuck you properly," he said, nudging his dick against Howard's hot, pink hole. 

Howard whimpered again, but he reached back for Steve's hip to urge him in. Hell, nobody could call Howard Stark a coward, and nobody better try it in Steve's presence. Not that he'd be able to explain. It was a little easier this time, a little looser, not to mention a little wetter. Steve reached for Howard's hand, tangling their fingers together and warning Howard to _tell him_ or at least squeeze the hell out of his hand the second it became too much. 

It wasn't so overwhelming this time, now that Steve had already gotten off _twice_ , shit, but it still felt incredible. Howard turned his face to the side, resting his cheek against the warm of the couch, which meant Steve got to watch the reaction on his face to every little move he made. He went slow, as slow as he could bear, just nudging halfway in with his eyes on Howard's face the whole time. After a few minutes Howard shifted, wedging his own arm underneath his hips so that he could touch himself. It made Steve's mouth go dry, and made Howard start moaning like a ten cent whore again, driving his ass back against Steve. 

So much for Steve's self-control. He pushed in harder, still aware of how much he was holding himself back, but trying to give Howard everything he was asking for. He felt that resistance again, of Howard's body trying to stretch to let him in, and he moaned and curled forwards, wrapping his arms around Howard's body as he fucked into him, harder, faster, measuring his pace by Howard's forced exhales, by the sweat that slicked his stomach, Howard's back, the back of Howard's neck.

"Shit, Steve," Howard murmured, finding his words at last, "shit, 'm gonna – 'm gonna –"

Well okay, he didn't find all his words, but Steve got the gist of it, and he finally let himself go, slamming home a dozen more times while Howard shook and convulsed around and under him, and Steve buried his neck in sweaty hair, the scent of aftershave and brylcream and engine oil, and he came in a burst with a name bitten into his lips. 

They lay there breathing each other's heavy air for a minute, before Howard groaned about how heavy Steve was, and Steve lifted himself off with a wince. 

"Shit," Howard mumbled, pushing himself up on shaky arms and looking down at the wreck of his couch. He offered Steve a crooked smile and reached for his drink. "I'd call that one _hell_ of a successful experiment."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This is the first fic I've posted in ABOUT five years so any and all feedback welcome, and please do come and hang out with me on tumblr (notallbees)! 
> 
> Also my entire life seems to be nothing but writing fic right now, so drop me a prompt if you like :D Also I'm shit at tumblr jfyi.


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